


Poetry in Motion

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canon Related, M/M, Sexy Times, poetry in motion, somersaults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 21:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Merlin learned to be very flexible. Arthur wanted Merlin to show him how.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 241
Collections: Camelot Drabble — Prompt #376: head over heels





	Poetry in Motion

Merlin was a man of many talents. His magic hidden, well mostly hidden, but since it still carried a death sentence, he couldn’t boast about it. He learned to juggle when Annis demanded entertainment and Arthur, the arse, volunteered Merlin. There was a little magic involved, but mostly it was just Merlin and eggs in the air.

But it gave him confidence to try new things. Learning to stand on his hands, tumbling and cartwheeling turned into fun and it proved useful at times. He kept it hidden from Arthur though for fear of being mocked.

Until one day, when he flew over the head of a bandit, shoving him off his horse, right into Arthur’s upturned sword. Then as Arthur dealt with the body, Merlin stood up, still on the horse, and balancing perfectly, rode the animal down the track. When the horse finally stopped, Merlin showed off a little more, flipping over the horse’s head, landing on his feet right in front of the knights.

Arthur ran up to him, staring at him open-mouthed, then shook himself clear of whatever he was thinking and said, “What the hell was that?”

“A battle with bandits?” Merlin started to pick up the extra swords. The bandits certainly wouldn’t be needing them.

“Not that, you idiot. Where you, you flipped over the horse and I can’t believe I’m saying this, and landed on your feet without breaking your neck.”

“It’s called a somersault, you clotpole.” When Arthur didn’t say anything else, Merlin sent him a grin. “I told you I have many talents.”

Gwaine said, “He has you there, Princess.”

The others, Percival and Elyan and Leon, were all smiling and clapping him on the back and asking about how he did it and how long it took to learn and could he teach them, too. Arthur just kept sending him scowls as if annoyed that Merlin hadn’t shared this little bit of information with him. It wasn’t a good look on him, although Merlin thought that Arthur always looked good even at his worst.

Merlin had it bad.

But Arthur didn’t object, even watched as Merlin taught the knights how to move, sliding around poles, doing cartwheels in the grass, getting all bendy and flexible. And when they were in their cups and joking, Gwaine especially, they’d talk about how Merlin did this and Merlin did that and Arthur would just scowl the more.

Merlin hoped that Arthur might see him in a different light after that, but that wasn’t going to happen and the sooner Merlin squashed whatever he was feeling for the damn idiot, he’d be better off. Merlin had it really really bad.

One day, Arthur called Merlin up to his room, in the middle of the day when Merlin should have been doing laundry or cleaning up Arthur’s room or just generally staying out of Arthur’s way because he’d been a clotpole ever since the whole bandit somersault thing. In fact, Merlin was sorry that he’d ever showed off if Arthur was going to continue to be so moody about it.

Merlin was surprised when he walked into Arthur’s room and found him shirtless, barefoot, just his breeches on. Arthur pushed past him, closing the door with a sharp thump, and turned around, arms crossed against that stupidly glorious chest of his.

“Show me what you can do.”

For a moment, Merlin had no idea what he was talking about. Show Arthur what, how to get those stubborn stains out of his tunic, how to stop being such a prat, how to give head? Although Merlin didn’t think _that last bit_ was going to happen.

Grabbing Merlin, he pulled him into the center of the room, and Merlin finally noticed that the floor was cleared of furniture. “I will kill you if you tell anyone about this, but I want you to teach me what you’ve been training the knights to do.”

“Ummmm….” Merlin was speechless a moment. Then he said, a little hotly if truth be told, “You told me that I was an idiot, that I was just showing off. That I was too clumsy for the likes of you.”

“Well, you are and you did and you are, but that’s not the point. I might have been a bit rash.” Arthur managed to look a little sheepish. “Gwaine and Percival and the rest are certainly more flexible than they were before, and their sword-work and fighting skills have improved since you… well, show me how you do it.”

Merlin wanted to stomp off in a huff, but Arthur was just standing there, trying to seem all royal but instead looking like he was a little lost or maybe needed a good thumping or a fantastic shag or both.

Scrubbing that thought out of his head, Merlin stood there a moment, then relenting because it was Arthur and really Merlin could never deny him anything, said, “Fine. But you will do exactly what I say.”

And wasn’t that full of possibilities.

But Arthur didn’t seem to care, just nodded. “Fine, but I will tell you when the lesson is done. I wouldn’t want you to get full of yourself. That’s what I’m here for.” Realizing what he’d just said, Arthur bit his lip, blushing, then waved his hand toward Merlin, “To make sure you don’t get hurt.” 

There was nothing Merlin could say after that, so instead he pulled the fur rug over into the middle of the cleared space, and pointed. “On your knees.”

Arthur looked startled at that, but did as Merlin said. It wasn’t the right thing to do. Arthur should be warming up his muscles, doing jump ups and leg lifts and stretches, but Merlin wanted to get a bit of his own back and what better way than to have Arthur on all fours, and his mouth just there, to make Arthur feel like he wasn’t any better than anyone else, especially Merlin.

Putting his bare hand onto Arthur’s back, he felt the muscles shift under him. There was tightness there and a kind of vulnerability, too, and suddenly Merlin felt ashamed. He should be helping Arthur, not humbling him. But there was nothing to do but push through and hope Arthur didn’t see it for what it was.

He had Arthur go through a series of pushups and hip stretches, leg lifts and arm pulls, and as soon as he could, without looking like he was pulling a prank, he told Arthur to stand up again. Shoving the fur rug over, knowing that Arthur would likely mock him for the next bit, he said, “I know it will look idiotic and I’m sure you’d love to mock me endlessly for it, but bear with me. I don’t want you hurting yourself and then have to listen to you complaining about it for the next month.”

“I would never….” Arthur started to say but Merlin just shoved a hand in front of Arthur’s mouth to stop him.

“Yes, you would and we both know it. So let’s just get on with it. Watch me first, then do what I do.” Merlin stepped back, kicking off his boots and socks, threw off his tunic and neckerchief, then hands on hips, crouched down and leapt up, switching his legs in the air so that he landed on his feet but in a mirror position. It did look silly. Merlin had seen himself in a mirror one time and almost refused to try it again. But it worked.

And if Arthur looked like an idiot doing the same thing, so much the better. 

Arthur just scowled at him. “You are having me on, aren’t you. Making me look like a fool.”

Merlin shrugged. “Do it or not. It’s for warming the muscles up so they don’t seize up on you.”

“The knights don’t do it.” Arthur wasn’t about to let this go, apparently.

“I know how much they don’t want to look… well silly so we always warm up in the side courtyard where people can’t see them.” Merlin did another one while Arthur frowned and looked like he’d refuse to try. “Fine, I’ll do it with you like I do with everyone else. It’s a good warm up for all that running around you make me do, anyway.”

Then ignoring Arthur’s grumbling, Merlin started repeating the actions and finally Arthur joined in. It didn’t help that Arthur’s chest was heaving after a few moments or that he looked flushed. It was a damnably good look on him.

Merlin had him run through a couple of other exercises before he thought he was ready for the next bit. “Watch me carefully.”

Doing a running jump, he flipped over his head, landing on his feet. It was easy now, but it had taken a while. He wasn’t sure Arthur wouldn’t hurt himself, but all he could do was let the git try.

Holding his breath, he nodded to Arthur.

In the end, Merlin had worried about nothing. Arthur handled it perfectly, landing on his feet light as a feather. He even smirked when he was done, the arse. “And that’s what a true knight can accomplish, Merlin. Perhaps, next time you can show me something more difficult.”

Merlin would like to show Arthur his fist and what he could do with that, but instead, he did another running jump and flipped over backwards.

It became a pissing contest. Merlin would show Arthur something and then the utter clotpole would do it. It was almost as if he’d done it before, because no one, not even Prince I-am-perfect-in-everything-all-the-time wouldn’t make a mistake once in a while. Learning was always at least half failure and then picking yourself up and trying again.

Finally, Merlin gave up. Chest heaving, he flopped down on the fur rug and wheezed out, “Fine, you win. You just had to be perfect, didn’t you. Why did you even bother asking me?”

Arthur tried to hide a smirk, turning away so Merlin couldn’t see it, but he caught the tail end of it. There was something else going on.

It finally dawned on him. He sat up, scowling at Arthur. “You knew how to do it beforehand?”

Arthur was standing over him, giving him a little kick in the shin with one bare foot, looking as smug as Merlin had ever seen him. “Not exactly but it’s easy enough to figure out once I’d seen how you did it. I’ve had tutors in combat since I was a small boy and I am a trained knight after all. It’s not that difficult.”

So it wasn’t Merlin that was being an arse but Arthur. He could have said something earlier, especially when they were first starting out, about how he already knew how to flip and do cartwheels and somersaults. Merlin could have dealt it, kicked himself later for not seeing that Arthur played him for an idiot, but with Arthur hovering over him, looking for all the world like he’d just won, Merlin couldn’t take it any more.

Reaching out, he hooked one hand around Arthur’s ankle and pulled. The cabbage-head crashed onto the fur rug, making very embarrassed yelping noises as he went down. Merlin could be sneaky, too, so he pulled at the rug a little with magic, trapping one of Arthur’s feet, causing Arthur to be a little off-balance, wresting with him, rolling over and over again as they battled for dominance.

For a while, Merlin was winning. Arms and legs and insults wrapping around each other, if it hadn’t been for Arthur’s obvious bulk, Merlin would have pinned him down in no time flat.

But Arthur was a knight and muscular in all the right places and damn flawless with that chest of his and those tight thighs squeezing Merlin and that perfect arse Merlin’s hands kept brushing up against.

Merlin finally gave up, just lay there while Arthur kept Merlin’s wrists trapped over his head, and wiggled his hips a bit as he sat on Merlin. All smug and triumphant, the wanker said, “Give up. You know I’ll always come out on top.”

Unfortunately, the wiggling had its own result with Merlin’s bits showing signs of interest in something other than wrestling. It was embarrassing, it was wonderful, it was making him panic. He tried to will it down, thought of Gaius and Uther going at it which helped quite a lot, but then Arthur bounced a little more when Merlin didn’t say anything and all thoughts of keeping his longing hidden went right out the window.

He was hardening fast, and he closed his eyes to keep from seeing Arthur realize just what was going on. It was difficult enough keeping his magic secret, but his love or lust but really love for Arthur had been a horror of sweaty nights and sticky sheets and trying not to lean in just so for a kiss or hard shag every single damnable day.

Now he would be mocked within an inch of his life or maybe even banished from Arthur’s life altogether. After all, who would want a skinny, insolent peasant, someone got into trouble with alarming regularity, who had a big mouth and even bigger ears.

Instead, Arthur didn’t say anything, just ground down a little more slowly, seeming almost deliberate if Merlin hadn’t known better, causing a delicious kind of friction that made Merlin want to explore something, preferably Arthur’s mouth or maybe something a bit lower.

There was silence, a hitching of breath and Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur staring down at him, his eyes dark, his mouth bitten red. It looked as if Arthur was enjoying it, Merlin held captive under Arthur’s grip, and the way they were both moving. Merlin’s eyes flicked down to see a bulge there in Arthur’s breeches and that just made things worse because the possibilities were suddenly endless.

He wanted to say something, but Arthur just shook his head. His eyes flicked down toward Merlin’s mouth, then after a breathless moment when Merlin didn’t know if Arthur would make a joke of it all or tell Merlin off, Arthur leaned forward, his hands still capturing Merlin’s own, that stupidly glorious naked chest of his heating Merlin’s skin, and touched his mouth to Merlin’s. A light touch, almost feather-soft, tentative. When Merlin didn’t throw him off or do anything else but groan, Arthur deepened the kiss.

That was all it took. Merlin surged up, making obscene noises as he kissed Arthur to within an inch of his life, searching, taking, giving.

Somehow he’d gotten his hands freed and they were exploring all that soft skin, grabbing that tantalizing arse of Arthur’s, and pulling him closer even as Merlin shoved upward.

They were battling again, hands everywhere, mouths hungry for more, all that heated flesh of Arthur’s pressing down against him and it was amazing. Rocking into him, Merlin, in one little part of his brain that wasn’t drowning in pleasure, wished that the breeches were gone but maybe next time, and then he lost his mind, the ecstasy spiraling up and up until Merlin’s world whited out a moment.

When he could think again, Arthur was still breathing hard but swallowing, too, against Merlin’s throat. There was a mess between them, but Merlin didn’t mind at all. It had been amazing and wonderful and immensely satisfying, but terrifying, too. He had no idea what Arthur would do or say, but Merlin would give anything to do it all over again.

Clearing his throat, Arthur pushed off, then tumbled onto his back, one arm over his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just lay there, breathing quietly.

Merlin couldn’t take it any longer. At least he’d face what they’d just done even if Arthur was being an arse about it. “Just so you know, I don’t include that last bit in my training methods.”

Still one arm over his eyes, Arthur said, “Not even with Gwaine?”

Why Arthur was bringing up Gwaine’s name at the moment when they should be talking about it all was beyond Merlin. But it seemed important to Arthur, so Merlin just said, “Definitely not with Gwaine. He’d probably use those drawings of his to describe the different positions to use next time and I don’t think I could take the awkwardness after that.”

At that, Arthur turned on his side, staring at Merlin. “Gwaine has drawings?”

“Oh, yeah.” Merlin lifted his head, then turned to face Arthur. “He hasn’t shown them to you yet? They are… informative.”

Arthur looked horrified or maybe a little bit intrigued, but then his face hardened. “And the other knights?”

“We’ve all seen the drawings. They are quite detailed and in color, too.” They were also explicit as hell. Gwaine said he’d found them in his travels on the continent, he’d mentioned something about Gaul and that he’d had them for a while. But then Gwaine was well versed in _activities_, if his boasting was anything close to the truth.

“That’s not what I meant.” Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes a little, then his mouth turned down again. “My knights seem to like you.”

Of course, the knights liked him. He was always helping them out when Arthur wasn’t having him run around being the dogs body to every royal in sight. He didn’t mind, though. Leon and Gwaine and the others certainly treated him with more respect than Arthur, never yelled at him or sent him to the stocks or threw things at him. Gwaine even stole those fruit tarts that Merlin liked so much and gave him some when he thought no one was looking.

But Arthur didn’t look like he was upset that the knights were treating him well. He looked a little, for want of a better word, jealous. Which was ridiculous, of course. As if Arthur would ever want him. But then Merlin moved a bit and was very much reminded in sticky and breeches-encrusted ways that Arthur had wanted him, at least once.

And it was if a lantern turned on in his head. Arthur wanted him, might still want him, might even be jealous after all, and then Merlin finally understood just what Arthur was implying.

“I’m not shagging the knights, you arse.”

Merlin was furious. As if he could when his heart belonged always and forever to the prat in front of him. He started to get up, but Arthur reached out and tried to pull him back down. Merlin was having none of it. Avoiding Arthur’s hand, he stood up, glaring at Arthur. Of course, the wanker couldn’t just lay there and take it.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, hands across that chest of his, scowling back at Merlin. “But you are training them.”

Waving his hands about in utter frustration, Merlin said, “In somersaults, you stupid clotpole. If they want anything else, they can go to Gwaine or maybe Leon.”

“Leon?” Arthur blinked at that, as if this was the first he’d heard of issues with Leon.

Not that there were issues with Leon, but the man had hidden depths. Merlin said, “Ever since we told Leon you like poetry, he’s been bugging me for books on it. And he’s always talking with Percival and Gwaine and then they go off to be alone, just the three of them. Although sometimes Elyan joins them.” The look on Arthur’s face would have been hilarious if Merlin was not still annoyed with him. “No, I’m not even going there. What they do in their own time is their business. I’m just teaching somersaults and flexibility and that’s it.”

“So you don’t go off with them, to help them with their business? Or anyone else’s?”

Why Arthur was pressing the point was just too confusing. Merlin’s voice was rising fast, and he wanted to either shag Arthur or turn him into a toad, maybe both, although not at the same time. That would just be creepy.

Merlin stepped closer, one finger jabbing at Arthur’s chest, just above those strong arms of his. Arthur’s gaze flicked down a moment to Merlin’s hand, then back up at him as Merlin said, “With whom and even if I had someone, when do I have the time? Between you and Gaius, I’m surprised I have time to breathe, never mind have a… I don’t even know why I’m talking to you. You’re ridiculous.”

Arthur started to smile. He didn’t say anything at first, just seemed to wait for Merlin’s tirade to be over. When it looked like Merlin was just about to get started on his second wind, he grabbed Merlin’s hand, still poking at his chest, then brought it up to his mouth and licked the palm.

Too startled to argue, Merlin gasped a little, then said, “Oh.”

The rest of him was saying ‘oh’, too, and his bits were starting to pay attention, strong attention to Arthur’s mouth and darkening eyes. When Arthur gave him another slow lick, watching him as he did so, all Merlin could do was stare back at him and try not to fall on his knees and beg.

“I’m… I’m….” He swallowed hard, then blushed. This was too much and not enough and Merlin felt like flying. He wasn’t sure he knew how to breathe any more with Arthur holding his hand against his mouth like that. 

“Articulate as always. From now on, no more training my knights. I’ve something better for you to do with your time.” Arthur’s smile faltered a moment. “But only if you want. It’s not part of your duties, just… if you want.”

Merlin was breathing now, short hot breaths that matched his beating heart, racing upward as the possibilities hit him.

Smiling, a slow upturn in lips and joy, Merlin said, “Teaching you somersaults?”

“I prefer to call it poetry.” Arthur gave Merlin’s hand a final lick, then pushed it down to heat Arthur’s hard length. As Merlin’s fingers curled around it, it jumped a little in Merlin’s palm, growing moist and harder as he squeezed and twisted it just so.

Poetry indeed.

Merlin was hardening too, thinking of all the things he’d wanted to do over the years and now those dreams were about to become reality.

As Merlin dove back into Arthur’s embrace and began to explore all that golden skin, eliciting moans from his favorite prat, feeling Arthur’s mouth sucking on his neck marking him, wanting to sink into Arthur’s body and never come out again, with heat and longing building, building, building into another crescendo, Merlin knew one thing.

There wasn’t a word for it, what he wanted to do with Arthur, how he never wanted to come up for air again, never wanted to let him go, never wanted anything else but this. 

But if they both wanted to call it poetry, so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: The phrase originated in the 14th century as 'heels over head', meaning doing a cartwheel or somersault.   
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
